"Will he live?" inquired Mr. Caryll shortly, by way ofrecalling the man of medicine to the fact that politics wasnot the business on which he had been summoned.

The doctor pursed his lips, and looked at Mr. Caryll over thetop of his spectacles. "He will live - ",

"Thank God!" breathed Mr. Caryll.

" - perhaps an hour," the doctor concluded, and never knew hownear was Mr. Caryll to striking him. He turned again to hispatient, producing a probe. "Very deplorable!" Mr. Caryllheard him muttering, parrot-like.

A pause ensued, and a silence broken only by occasionalcluckings from the little doctor, and Mr. Caryll stood by, aprey to an anguish more poignant than he had ever known. Atlast there was a groan from the wounded man. Mr. Caryllstarted forward.

Sir Richard's eyes were open, and he was looking about him atthe doctor, the valet, and, lastly, at his adopted son. Hesmiled faintly at the latter. Then the doctor touched Mr.Caryll's sleeve, and drew him aside.

"I cannot reach the bullet," he said. "But 'tis no matter forthat." He shook his head solemnly. "The lung has beenpierced. A little time now, and - I can do nothing more."

Mr. Caryll nodded in silence, his face drawn with pain. Witha gesture he dismissed the doctor, who went out with Bentley.

When the valet returned, Mr. Caryll was on his knees besidethe bed, Sir Richard's hand in his, and Sir Richard wasspeaking in a feeble, hoarse voice - gasping and coughing atintervals.

"Don't - don't grieve, Justin," he was saying. "I am an oldman. My time must have been very near. I - I am glad that itis thus. It is much better than if they had taken me. They'dha' shown me no mercy. 'Tis swifter thus, and - and easier."

Silently Justin wrung the hand he held.

"You'll miss me a little, Justin," the old man resumedpresently. "We have been good friends, lad - good friends forthirty years."

"Father!" Justin cried, a sob in his voice.

Sir Richard smiled. "I would I were your father in more thanname, Justin. Hast been a good son to me - no son could havebeen more than you."

Bentley drew nigh with a long glass containing a cordial thedoctor had advised. Sir Richard drank avidly, and sighedcontent when he returned the glass. "How long yet, Justin?"he inquired.

"Not long, father," was the gloomy answer.

"It is well. I am content. I am happy, Justin. Believe me,I am happy. What has my life been? Dissipated in the pursuitof a phantom." He spoke musingly, critically calm, as one whoalready upon the brink of dissolution takes already but animpersonal interest in the course he has run in life.

Judging so, his judgment was clearer than it had yet been; itgrew sane, and was freed at last from the hackles offanaticism; and there was something that e saw in its trueproportions. He sighed heavily.

"This is a judgment upon me," he said presently. He turned hisgreat eyes full upon Justin, and their dance was infinitelywistful. "Do you remember, Justin, that night at your lodging- that first night on which we talked here in London of thething you were come to do - the thing to which I urged you?Do you recall how you upbraided me for having set you a taskhat was unworthy and revolting?"

"Oh, you were right, Justin; right, and I was entirely wrong -wickedly wrong. I should have left vengeance to God. He iswreaking it. Ostermore's whole life has been a punishment;his end will be a punishment. I understand it now. We do nowrong in life, Justin, for which in this same life payment isnot exacted. Ostermore has been paying. I should lave beencontent with that. After all, he is your father in the flesh,and it was not for you to raise your hand against him. 'Tiswhat you have felt, and I am glad you should have felt it, forit proves your worthiness. Can you forgive me?"

"Nay, nay, father! Speak not of forgiveness."

"I have sore need of it."

"Ah, but not from me; not from me! What is there I shouldforgive? There is a debt between us I had hoped to repay someday when you were grown truly old. I had looked to tend youin your old age, to be the comfort of it, and the support thatyou were to my infancy."

"It had been sweet, Justin," sighed Sir Richard, smiling uponhis adopted son, and putting forth an unsteady hand to strokethe white, drawn face. "It had been sweet. It is sweet tohear that you so proposed."

A shudder convulsed him. He sank back coughing, and there wasfroth and blood on his lips. Reverently Justin wiped them,and signed for the cordial to Bentley, who stood, numbed, inthe background.

"It is the end," said Sir Richard feebly. "God has been goodto me beyond my deserts, and this is a crowning mercy.Consider, Justin, it might have been the gibbet and a crowd -instead of this snug bed, and you and Bentley here - just twogood friends."

Bentley, losing all self-control at this mention of himself,sank weeping to his knees. Sir Richard put out a hand, andtouched his head.

"You will serve Mr. Caryll, Bentley. You'll find him a goodmaster if you are as good a servant to him as you have been tome."

Then suddenly he made the quick movement of one who bethinkshimself of something. He waved Bentley away.

"There is a case in the drawer yonder," he said, when theservant was beyond earshot. "It contains papers that concernyou - certificates of your birth and of your mothers death. Ibrought them with me as proofs of your identity, against thetime when the hour of vengeance upon Ostermore should strike.They twill serve no purpose now. Burn them. They are bestdestroyed."

Mr. Caryll nodded understanding, and on Sir Richard's partthere followed another fight for breath, another attack ofcoughing, during which Bentley instinctively approached again.

When the paroxysm was past, Sir Richard turned once more toJustin, who was holding him in his arms, upright, to ease hisbreathing. "Be good to Bentley," he murmured, his voice veryfaint and exhausted now. "You are my heir, Justin. All thatI have - I set all in order ere I left Paris. It - it isgrowing dark. You have not snuffed the candles, Bentley.They are burning very low."

Suddenly he started forward, held as he was in Justin's arms.He half-raised his arms, holding out his hands toward the footof the bed. His eyes dilated; the expression of his lividface grew first surprised, then joyous - beatific."Antoinette!" he cried in a loud voice. "Antoi - " "

And thus, abruptly, but in great happiness, he passed.

CHAPTER XVII

AMID THE GRAVES

What time Sir Richard had been dying in the inner room, Mr.Green and two of his acolytes had improved the occasion bymaking a thorough search in Sir Richard's writing-table and athorough investigation of every scrap of paper found there.>From which you will understand how much Mr. Green was agentleman who set business above every other consideration.

The man who had shot Sir Richard had been ordered by Mr. Greento take himself off, and had been urged to go down on hisknees, for once in a way, and pray Heaven that his rashnessmight not bring him to the gallows as he so richly deserved.

His fourth myrmidon Mr. Green had dispatched with a note to myLord Rotherby, and it was entirely upon the answer he shouldreceive that it must depend whether he proceeded or not,forthwith, to the apprehension of Mr. Caryll. Meanwhile thesearch went on amain, and was extended presently to the verybedroom where the dead Sir Richard lay. Every nook and crannywas ransacked; the very mattress under the dead man wasremoved, and investigated, and even Mr. Caryll and Bentley hadto submit to being searched. But it all proved fruitless.Not a line of treasonable matter was to be found anywhere. Tothe certificates upon Mr. Caryll the searcher made the mistakeof paying but little heed in view of their nature.

But if there were no proofs of plots and treasonable dealings,there was, at least, abundant proof of Sir Richard's identity,and Mr. Green appropriated these against any awkward inquiriestouching the manner in which the baronet had met his death.

Of such inquiries, however, there were none. It was formallysworn to Lord Carteret by Green and his men that thesecretary's messenger, Jerry - the fellow owned no surname -had shot Sir Richard in self-defence, when Sir Richard hadproduced firearms upon being arrested on a charge of hightreason, for which they held the secretary's own warrant.

At first Lord Carteret considered it a thousand pities thatthey should not have contrived matters better so as to takeSir Richard alive; but upon reflection he was careful not toexaggerate to himself the loss occasioned by his death, forSir Richard, after all, was a notoriously stubborn man, not inthe least likely to have made any avowals worth having. Sothat his trial, whilst probably resulting sterile of suchresults as the government could desire, would have givenpublicity to the matter of a plot that was hatching; and suchpublicity at a time of so much unrest was the last thing thegovernment desired. Where Jacobitism was concerned, LordCarteret had the wise discretion to proceed with the extremestcaution. Publicity might serve to fan the smouldering embersinto a blaze, whereas it was his cunning aim quietly to stiflethem as he came upon them.

So, upon the whole, he was by no means sure but that Jerry haddone the state the best possible service in disposing thussummarily of that notorious Jacobite agent, Sir RichardEverard. And his lordship saw to it that there was no inquiryand that nothing further was heard of the matter.

As for Lord Rotherby, had the affair transpired twenty-fourhours earlier, he would certainly have returned Mr. Green amessage to effect the arrest of Mr. Caryll upon suspicion.But as it chanced, he had that very afternoon received a visitfrom his mother, who came in great excitement to inform himthat she had forced from Lord Ostermore an acknowledgment thathe was plotting with Mr. Caryll to go over to King James.

So, before they could move further against Mr. Caryll, itbehooved them to ascertain precisely to what extent LordOstermore might not be incriminated, as otherwise the arrestof Caryll might lead to exposures that would ruin the earlmore thoroughly than could any South Sea bubble revelations.Thus her ladyship to her son. He turned upon her.

"Why, madam," said he, "these be the very arguments I usedt'other day when we talked of this; and all you answered methen was to call me a dull-witted clod, for not seeing how thething might be done without involving my lord."

"Tcha!" snapped her ladyship, beating her knuckles impatientlywith her fan. "A dull-witted clod did I call you? 'Twasflattery - sheer flattery; for I think ye're something worse.Fool, can ye not see the difference that lies betwixt yourdisclosing a plot to the secretary of state, and causing thisCaryll to disclose it - as might happen if he were seized?First discover the plot - find out in what it may consist, andthen go to Lord Carteret to make your terms."

He looked at her, out of temper by her rebuke. "I may be asdull as your ladyship says - but I do not see in what theposition now is different from what it was."

"It isn't different - but we thought it was different," sheexplained impatiently. "We assumed that your father would nothave betrayed himself, counting upon his characteristiccaution. But it seems we are mistook. He has betrayedhimself to Caryll. And before we can move in this matter, wemust have proofs of a plot to lay before the secretary ofstate."

Lord Rotherby understood, and accounted himself between Scyllaand Charybdis, and when that evening Green's messenger foundhim, he gnashed his teeth in rage at having to allow thischance to pass, at being forced to temporize until he shouldbe less parlously situated. He returned Mr. Green an urgentmessage to take no steps concerning Mr. Caryll until theyshould have concerted together.

Mr. Green was relieved. Mr. Caryll arrested might stir upmatters against the slayer of Sir Richard, and this was abusiness which Mr. Green had prevision enough to see hismaster, Lord Carteret, would prefer should not be stirred up.He had a notion, for the rest, that if Mr. Caryll were left togo his ways, he would not be likely to give trouble touchingthat same matter. And he was right in this. Before hisoverwhelming sense of loss, Mr. Caryll had few thoughts tobestow upon the manner in which that loss had been sustained.Moreover, if he had a quarrel with any one on that account, itwas with the government whose representative had issued thewarrant for Sir Richard's arrest, and no more with thewretched tipstaff who had fired the pistol than with thepistol itself. Both alike were but instruments, of slightlydifferent degrees of insensibility.

For twenty-four hours Mr. Caryll's grief was overwhelming inits poignancy. His sense of solitude was awful. Gone was theonly living man who had stood to him for kith and kin. He wasleft alone in the world; utterly alone. That was theselfishness of his sorrow - the consideration of Sir Richard'sdeath as it concerned himself.

Presently an alloy of consolation was supplied by thereflection of Sir Richard's own case - as Sir Richard himselfhad stated it upon his deathbed. His life had not been happy;it had been poisoned by a monomania, which, like a worm in thebud, had consumed the sweetness of his existence. Sir Richardwas at rest. And since he had been discovered, that shot was,indeed, the most merciful end that could have been measuredout to him. The alternative might have been the gibbet andthe gaping crowd, and a moral torture to precede the end.Better - a thousand times better - as it was.

So much did all this weigh with him that when on the followingMonday he accompanied the body to its grave, he found hiserstwhile passionate grief succeeded by an odd thankfulnessthat things were as they were, although it must be confessedthat a pang of returning anguish smote him when he heard theearth clattering down upon the wooden box that held all thatremained of the man who had been father, mother, brother andall else to him.

He turned away at last, and was leaving the graveyard, whensome one touched him on the arm. It was a timid touch. Heturned sharply, and found himself looking into the sweet faceof Hortensia Winthrop, wondering how came she there. She worea long, dark cloak and hood, but her veil was turned back. Achair was waiting not fifty paces from them along thechurchyard wall.

"I came but to tell you how much I feel for you in this greatloss," she said.

He looked at her in amazement. "How did you know?" he askedher.

"I guessed," said she. "I heard that you were with him at theend, and I caught stray words from her ladyship of what hadpassed. Lord Rotherby had the information from the tipstaffwho went to arrest Sir Richard Everard. I guessed he was your- your foster-father, as you called him; and I came to tellyou how deeply I sorrow for you in your sorrow."

He caught her hands in his and bore them to his lips, recklessof who might see the act. "Ah, this is sweet and kind inyou," said he.

She drew him back into the churchyard again. Along the wallthere was an avenue of limes - a cool and pleasant walkwherein idlers lounged on Sundays in summer after service.Thither she drew him. He went almost mechanically. Hersympathy stirred his sorrow again, as sympathy so often does.

"I have buried my heart yonder, I think," said he, with a waveof his hand towards that spot amid the graves where the menwere toiling with their shovels. "He was the only livingbeing that loved me."

"Ah, surely not," said she, sorrow rather than reproach in hergentle voice.

"Indeed, yes. Mine is a selfish grief. It is for myself thatI sorrow, for myself and my own loneliness. It is thus withall of us. When we argue that we weep the dead, it would bemore true to say that we bewail the living. For him - it isbetter as it is. No doubt it is better so for most men, whenall is said, and we do wrong to weep their passing."

"Do not talk so," she said. "It hurts."

"Ay - it is the way of truth to hurt, which is why, hatingpain, we shun truth so often." He sighed. "But, oh, it wasgood in you to seek me, to bring me word with your own lips ofyour sweet sympathy. If aught could lighten the gloom of mysorrow, surely it is that."

They stepped along in silence until they came to the end ofthe avenue, and turned. It was no idle silence: the silenceof two beings who have naught to say. It was a grave,portentous silence, occasioned by the unutterable much in themind of one, and by the other's apprehension of it. At lastshe spoke, to ask him what he meant to do.

"I shall return to France," he said. "It had perhaps beenbetter had I never crossed to England."

"I cannot think so," she said, simply, frankly and with notouch of a coquetry that had been harshly at discord with timeand place.

"I mean not that," she cried, and held out her hands to him."I meant not what you think - you know, you know what 'twas Imeant. You know - you must - what impulse brought me to youin this hour, when I knew you must need comfort. And inreturn how cruel, were you not - to tell me that yonder layburied the only living being that - that loved you?"

His fingers were clenched upon her arm. "Don't - don't!" heimplored hoarsely, a strange fire in his eyes, a hectic flushon either cheek. "Don't! Or I'll forget what I am, and takeadvantage of this midsummer folly that is upon you."

"Is it no more than folly, Justin?" she asked him, brown eyeslooking up into gray-green.

"Ay, something more - stark madness. All great emotions are.It will pass, and you will be thankful that I was man enough -strong enough - to allow it the chance of passing."

She hung her head, shaking it sorrowfully. Then very softly:"Is it no more than the matter of - of that, that standsbetween us?" she inquired.

"No more than that," he answered, "and yet more than enough.I have no name to offer any woman."

"A name?" she echoed scornfully. "What store do you think Ilay by that? When you talk so, you obey some foolishprejudice; no more."

"Obedience to prejudices is the whole art of living," heanswered, sighing.

She made a gesture of impatience, and went on. "Justin, yousaid you loved me; and when you said so much, you gave me theright - or so I understood it - to speak to you as I am doingnow. You are alone in the world, without kith or kin. Theonly one you had - the one who represented all for you - liesburied there. Would you return thus, lonely and alone, toFrance?"

"Ah, now I understand!" he cried. "Now I understand. Pity isthe impulse that has urged you - pity for my loneliness, is'tnot, Hortensia?"

"I'll not deny that without the pity there might not have beenthe courage. Why should I - since it is a pity that gives youno offense, a pity that is rooted firmly in - in love for you,my Justin?"

He set his hands upon her shoulders, and with glowing eyesregarded her. "Ah, sweet!" said he, "you make me very, veryproud."

And then his arms dropped again limply to his sides. Hesighed, and shook his head drearily. "And yet - reflect.When I come to beg your hand in marriage of your guardian,what shall I answer him of the questions he will ask me ofmyself - touching my family, my parentage and all the restthat he will crave to know?"

She observed that he was very white again. "Need you enterinto that? A man is himself; not his father or his family."And then she checked. "You make me plead too much," she said,a crimson flood in her fair cheeks. "I'll say no more than Ihave said. Already have I said more than I intended. And youhave wanted mercy that you could drive me to it. You know mymind - my - my inmost heart. You know that I care nothing foryour namelessness. It is yours to decide what you will do.Come, now; my chair is staying for me."

He bowed; he sought again to convey some sense of hisappreciation of her great nobility; then led her through thegate and to her waiting chair.

"Whatever I may decide, Hortensia'' was the last thing he saidto her, "and I shall decide as I account best for you, ratherthan for myself; and for myself there needs no thought orhesitation - whatever I may decide, believe me when I say frommy soul that all my life shall be the sweeter for this hour."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE GHOST OF THE PAST

Temptation had seized Mr. Caryll in a throttling grip, and fortwo whole days he kept the house, shunning all company andwrestling with that same Temptation. In the end he took awhimsical resolve, entirely worthy of himself.

He would go to Lord Ostermore formally to ask in marriage thehand of Mistress Winthrop, and he would be entirely frank withthe earl, stating his exact condition, but suppressing thenames of his parents.

He was greatly taken with the notion. It would create asituation ironical beyond any, grotesque beyond belief; andits development should be stupendously interesting. Itattracted him irresistibly. That he should leave it to hisown father to say whether a man born as he was born mightaspire to marry his father's ward, had in it something thatsavored of tragi-comedy. It was a pretty problem, that onceset could not be left unsolved by a man of Mr. Caryll'stemperament. And, indeed, no sooner was the idea conceivedthan it quickened into a resolve upon which he set out to act.

He bade Leduc call a chair, and, dressed in mourning, but withhis habitual care, he had himself carried to Lincoln's InnFields.

Engrossed as he was in his own thoughts, he paid little heedto the hum of excitement about the threshold of StrettonHouse. Within the railed enclosure that fronted the mansiontwo coaches were drawn up, and a little knot of idlers stoodby one of these in busy gossip.

Paying no attention to them, Mr. Caryll mounted the steps, nornoticed the gravity of the porter's countenance as he passedwithin.

In the hall he found a little flock of servants gatheredtogether, and muttering among themselves like conspirators ina tragedy; and so engrossed that they paid no heed to him ashe advanced, nor until he had tapped one of them on theshoulder with his cane - and tapped him a thoughtperemptorily.

"How now?" said he. "Does no one wait here?"

They fell apart a little, and stood at attention, withsomething curious in their bearing, one and all.

"My service to his lordship, and say that I desire to speakwith him."

They looked at one another in hesitation for a moment; thenHumphries, the butler, came forward. "Your honor'll not haveheard the news?" said he, a solemn gravity in face and tone.

"News?" quoth Mr. Caryll sharply, intrigued by so much show ofmystery. "What news?"

"His lordship is very ill, sir. He had a seizure this morningwhen they came for him."

"A seizure?" said Mr. Caryll. And then: "When they came forhim?" he echoed, struck by something odd in the man'sutterance of those five words. "When who came for him?"

"The messengers, sir," replied the butler dejectedly. "Hasyour honor not heard?" And seeing the blank look on Mr.Caryll's face, he proceeded without waiting for an answer:"His lordship was impeached yesterday by his Grace of Whartonon a matter concerning the South Sea Company, and LordCarteret - the secretary of state, your honor - sent thismorning to arrest him."

"'Sdeath!" ejaculated Mr. Caryll in his surprise, a surprisethat was tempered with some dismay. "And he had a seizure, yesay?"

Mr. Caryll would have found it difficult to have said exactlywhat impression this news made upon him. In the main,however, he feared it left him cold.

"'Tis very regrettable," said he. He fell thoughtful amoment. Then: "Will you send word to Mistress Winthrop that Iam here, and would speak with her, Humphries?"

Humphries conducted Mr. Caryll to the little white and goldwithdrawing-room that was Hortensia's. There, in the littletime that he waited, he revolved the situation as it nowstood, and the temptation that had been with him for the pastthree days rose up now with a greater vigor. Should LordOstermore die, Temptation argued, he need no longer hesitate.Hortensia would be as much alone in the world as he was;worse, for life at Stretton House with her ladyship - fromwhich even in the earl's lifetime she had been led to attemptto escape - must be a thing unbearable, and what alternativecould he suggest but that she should become his wife?

She came to him presently, white-faced and with startled eyes.As she took his outstretched hands, she attempted a smile."It is kind in you to come to me at such a time," she said.

"You mistake," said he, "as is but natural. I had not heardwhat had befallen. I came to ask your hand in marriage of hislordship."

Some faint color tinged her cheeks. "You had decided, then?"

"I had decided that his lordship must decide," he answered.

"And now?"

"And now it seems we must decide for ourselves if his lordshipdies."

Her mind swung to the graver matter. "Sir James has everyhope," she said, and added miserably: "I know not which topray for, his recovery or his death."

"Why that?"

"Because if he survive it may be for worse. The secretary'sagent is even now seeking evidence against him among his ownpapers. He is in the library at this moment, going throughhis lordship's desk."

Mr. Caryll started. That mention of Ostermore's desk broughtvividly before his mind the recollection of the secret drawerwherein the earl had locked away the letter he had receivedfrom King James and his own reply, all packed as it was, withtreason. If that drawer were discovered, and those papersfound, then was Ostermore lost indeed, and did he survive thisapoplexy, it would be to surrender his head upon the scaffold.

A moment he considered this, dispassionately. Then it brokeupon his mind that were this to happen, Ostermore's bloodwould indirectly be upon his own head, since for the purposeof betrayal had he sought him out with that letter from theexiled Stuart - which, be it remembered, King James himselfhad no longer wished delivered.

It turned him cold with horror. He could not remain idle andlet matters run their course. He must avert these discoveriesif it lay within his power to do so, or else he must submit toa lifetime of remorse should Ostermore survive to be attaintedof treason. He had made an end - a definite end - long sinceof his intention of working Ostermore's ruin; he could notstand by now and see that ruin wrought as a result of thelittle that already he had done towards encompassing it.

"His papers must be saved," he said shortly. "I'll go to thelibrary at once."

"But the secretary's agent is there already," she repeated.

"'Tis no matter for that," said he, moving towards the door."His desk contains that which will cost him his head ifdiscovered. I know it," he assured her, and left her coldwith fear.

"But, then, you - you?" she cried. "Is it true that you are aJacobite?"

"True enough," he answered.

"Lord Rotherby knows it," she informed him. "He told me itwas so. If - if you interfere in this, it - it may mean yourruin." She came to him swiftly, a great fear written or herwinsome face.

"Sh," said he. "I am not concerned to think of that atpresent. If Lord Ostermore perishes through his connectionwith the cause, it will mean worse than ruin for me - thoughnot the ruin that you are thinking of."

"But what can you do?"

"That I go to learn."

"I will come with you, then."

He hesitated a moment, looking at her; then he opened thedoor, and held it for her, following after. He led the wayacross the hall to the library, and they went in together.

Lord Ostermore's secretaire stood open, and leaning over it,his back towards them was a short, stiffly-built man in asnuff-colored coat. He turned at the sound of the closingdoor, and revealed the pleasant, chubby face of Mr. Green.

"Ye've a nice sense of humor," said Mr. Caryll, head on oneside, contemplating the spy with admiration in his glance.

"And a nicer sense of a Jacobite," answered Mr. Green.

"He will have the last word, you perceive," said Mr. Caryll toHortensia.

"Harkee, Mr. Caryll," quoth Mr. Green, quite grimly now. "I'dha' laid you by the heels a month or more ago, but for certainfriends o' mine who have other ends to serve."

"Sir, what you tell me shocks me. It shakes the veryfoundations of my faith in human nature. I have esteemed youan honest man, Mr. Green, and it seems - on your ownconfessing - that ye're no better than a damned rogue whoneglects his duty to the state. I've a mind to see LordCarteret, and tell him the truth of the matter."

"Ye shall have an opportunity before long, ecod!" said Mr.Green. "Good-morning to you! I've work to do." And heturned back to the desk.

"'Tis wasted labor," said Mr. Caryll, producing his snuff-box,and tapping it. "You might seek from now till the crack ofdoom, and not find what ye seek - not though you hack the deskto pieces. It has a secret, Mr. Green. I'll make a bargainwith you for that secret."

"Ye think that? Pho! 'Tis not like your usual wit, Mr.Green. The letter that I carried into England, and that youwere at such splendid pains to find at Maidstone, is in here."And he tapped the veneered top of the secretaire with hisforefinger. "But ye'll not find it without my help. It isconcealed as effectively - as effectively as it was upon myperson when ye searched me. Now, sir, will ye treat with me?It'll save you a world of labor."

Mr. Green still looked at him. He licked his lipsthoughtfully, cat-like. "What terms d'ye make?" he inquired,but his tone was very cold. His busy brain was endeavoring toconjecture what exactly might be Mr. Caryll's object in thisfrankness which Mr. Green was not fool enough to believesincere.

"Ah," said Mr. Caryll. "That is more the man I know." Hetapped his snuff-box, and in that moment memory rather thaninspiration showed him the thing he needed. "Did ye ever see`The Constant Couple,' Mr. Green?" he inquired.

"`The Constant Couple'?" echoed Mr. Green, and thoughmystified, he must air his little jest. "I never saw anycouple that was constant - leastways, not for long."

"Ha! Ye're a roguish wag! But `The Constant Couple' I meanis a play."

"Oh, a play! Ay, I mind me I saw it some years ago, when'twas first acted. But what has that to do with - "

"Ye'll understand in a moment," said Mr. Caryll, with a smilethe spy did not relish. "D'ye recall a ruse of Sir HarryWildairs to rid himself of the company of an intrusive oldfool who was not wanted? D'ye remember what 'twas he did?"

Mr. Green, his head slightly on one side, was watching Mr.Caryll very closely, and not without anxiety. "I don't," saidhe, and dropped a hand to the pocket where a pistol lay, thathe might be prepared for emergencies. "What did he do?"

"I'll show you," said Mr. Caryll. "He did this." And with aswift upward movement, he emptied his snuff-box full into theface of Mr. Green.

Mr. Green leapt back, with a scream of pain, hands to hiseyes, and quite unconsciously set himself to play to the lifethe part of the intrusive old fellow in the comedy. Dancingwildly about the room, his eyes smarting and burning so thathe could not open them, he bellowed of hell-fire and other hotthings of which he was being so intensely reminded.

"'Twill pass," Mr. Caryll consoled him. "A little water, andall will be well with you." He stepped to the door as bespoke, and flung it open. "Ho, there! Who waits?" he called.

Two or three footmen sprang to answer him. He took Mr. Green,still blind and vociferous, by the shoulders, and thrust himinto their care. "This gentleman has had a most unfortunateaccident. Get him water to wash his eyes - warm water. So!Take him. 'Twill pass, Mr. Green. 'Twill soon pass, I assureyou."

He shut the door upon them, locked it, and turned toHortensia, smiling grimly. Then he crossed quickly to thedesk, and Hortensia followed him. He sat down, and pulled outbodily the bottom drawer on the right inside of the upper partof the desk, as he had seen Lord Ostermore do that day, alittle over a week ago. He thrust his hand into the opening,and felt along the sides for some moments in vain. He wentover the ground again slowly, inch by inch, exerting constantpressure, until he was suddenly rewarded by a click. Thesmall trap disclosed itself. He pulled it up, and took somepapers from the recess. He spread them before him. They werethe documents he sought - the king's letter to Ostermore, andOstermore's reply, signed and ready for dispatch. "These mustbe burnt," he said, "and burnt at once, for that fellow Greenmay return, or he may send others. Call Humphries. Get ataper from him."

She sped to the door, and did his bidding. Then she returned.She was plainly agitated. "You must go at once," she said,imploringly. "You must return to France without an instant'sdelay."

"Why, indeed, it would mean my ruin to remain now," headmitted. "And yet - " He held out his hands to her.

"I will follow you," she promised him. "I will follow you assoon as his lordship is recovered, or - or at peace."

"You have well considered, sweetheart?" he asked her, holdingher to him, and looking down into her gentle eyes.

"There is no happiness for me apart from you."

Again his scruples took him. "Tell Lord Ostermore - tell himall," he begged her. "Be guided by him. His decision for youwill represent the decision of the world."

"What is the world to me? You are the world to me," shecried.

There was a rap upon the door. He put her from him, and wentto open. It was Humphries with a lighted taper. He took it,thanked the man with a word, and shut the door in his face,ignoring the fact that the fellow was attempting to tell himsomething.

He returned to the desk. "Let us make quite sure that this isall," he said, and held the taper so that the light shone intothe recess. It seemed empty at first; then, as the lightpenetrated farther, he saw something that showed white at theback of the cachette. He thrust in his hand, and drew out asmall package bound with a ribbon that once might have beengreen but was faded now to yellow. He set it on the desk, andreturned to his search. There was nothing else. The recesswas empty. He closed the trap and replaced the drawer. Thenhe sat down again, the taper at his elbow, Mistress Winthroplooking on, facing him across the top of the secretaire, andhe took up the package.

The ribbon came away easily, and some half-dozen sheets fellout and scattered upon the desk. They gave out a curiousperfume, half of age, half of some essence with which yearsago they had been imbued. Something took Mr. Caryll in thethroat, and he could never explain whether it was that perfumeor some premonitory emotion, some prophetic apprehension ofwhat he was about to see.

He opened the first of those folded sheets, and found it to bea letter written in French and in an ink that had paled toyellow with the years that were gone since it had been penned.The fine, pointed writing was curiously familiar to Mr.Caryll. He looked at the signature at the bottom of the page.It swam before his eyes - ANTOINETTE-"Celle qui l'adore,Antoinette," he read, and the whole world seemed blotted outfor him; all consciousness, his whole being, hisevery sense, seemed concentrated into his eyes as they gazedupon that relic of a deluded woman's dream.

He did not read. It was not for him to commit the sacrilegeof reading what that girl who had been his mother had writtenthirty years ago to the man she loved - the man who had provedfalse as hell.

He turned the other letters over; opened them one by one, tomake sure that they were of the same nature as the first, andwhat time he did so he found himself speculating upon thestrangeness of Ostermore's having so treasured them. Perhapshe had thrust them into that secret recess, and thereforgotten them; 'twas an explanation that sorted better withwhat Mr. Caryll knew of his father, than the supposition thatso dull and practical and self-centered a nature could havebeen irradiated by a gleam of such tenderness as the hoardingof those letters might have argued.

He continued to turn them over, half-mechanically, forgetfulof the urgent need to burn the treasonable documents he hadsecured, forgetful of everything, even Hortensia's presence.And meantime she watched him in silence, marvelling at thisdelay, and still more at the gray look that had crept into hisface.

"What have you found?" she asked at last.

"A ghost," he answered, and his voice had a strained, metallicring. He even vented an odd laugh. "A bundle of oldlove-letters."

"From her ladyship?"

"Her ladyship?" He looked up, an expression on his face whichseemed to show that he could not at the moment think who herladyship might be. Then as the picture of that bedaubed,bedizened and harsh-featured Jezebel arose in his mind tostand beside the sweet girl - image of his mother - as he knewher from the portrait that hung at Maligny - he laughed again."No, not from her ladyship," said he. "From a woman who lovedhim years ago." And he turned to the seventh and last ofthose poor ghosts-the seventh, a fateful number.

He spread it before him; frowned down on it a moment with asharp hiss of indrawn breath. Then he twisted oddly on hischair, and sat bolt upright, staring straight before him withunseeing eyes. Presently he passed a hand across his brow,and made a queer sound in his throat.

"What is it?" she asked.

But he did not answer; he was staring at the paper again. Awhile he sat thus; then with swift fevered fingers he took uponce more the other letters. He unfolded one, and began toread. A few lines he read, and then - "O God!" he cried, andflung out his arms under stress of 'his emotions. One of themcaught the taper that stood upon the desk; and swept it,extinguished, to the floor. He never heeded it, never gave athought to the purpose for which it had been fetched, apurpose not yet served. He rose. He was white as the deadare white, and she observed that he was trembling. He took upthe bundle of old letters, and thrust them into an insidepocket of his coat.

"What are you doing?" she cried, seeking at last to arouse himfrom the spell under which he appeared to have fallen. "Thoseletters - "

"I must see Lord Ostermore," he answered wildly, and made forthe door, reeling like a drunkard in his walk.

CHAPTER XIX

THE END OF LORD OSTERMORE

In the ante-room communicating with Lord Ostermore's bedroomthe countess was in consultation with Rotherby, who had beensummoned by his mother when my lord was stricken.

Her ladyship occupied the window-seat; Rotherby stood besideher, leaning slightly against the frame of the open window.Their conversation was earnest and conducted in a low key, andone would naturally have conjectured that it had for subjectthe dangerous condition of the earl. And so it had - thedangerous condition of the earl's political, if not physical,affairs. To her ladyship and her son, the matter of their ownfuture was of greater gravity than the matter of whether hislordship lived or died - which, whatever it may be, is notunreasonable. Since the impeachment of my lord and the comingof the messengers to arrest him, the danger of ruin andbeggary were become more imminent - indeed, they impended, andmeasures must be concerted to avert these evils. Bycomparison with that, the earl's succumbing or surviving was atrivial matter; and the concern they had manifested in SirJames' news - when the important, well-nourished physician whohad bled his lordship came to inform them that there was hope- was outward only, and assumed for pure decorum's sake.

"Whether he lives or dies," said the viscount pertinently,after the doctor had departed to return to his patient, "themeasures to be taken are the same." And he repeated thesubstance of their earlier discussions upon this same topic."If we can but secure the evidence of his treason withCaryll," he wound up, "I shall be able to make terms with LordCarteret to arrest the proceedings the government may intend,and thus avert the restitution it would otherwise enforce."

"But if he were to die," said her ladyship, as coldly,horribly calculating as though he were none of hers, "therewould be an end to this danger. They could not demandrestitution of the dead, nor impose fines upon him."

Rotherby shook his head. "Believe not that, madam," said he."They can demand restitution of his heirs and impose theirfines upon the estate. 'Twas done in the case of ChancellorCraggs, though he shot himself."

She raised a haggard face to his. "And do you dream that LordCarteret would make terms with you?"

"If I can show him - by actual proof - that a conspiracy doesexist, that the Stuart supporters are plotting a rising.Proof of that should be of value to Lord Carteret, ofsufficient value to the government to warrant the payment ofthe paltry price I ask - that the impeachment against myfather for his dealings with the South Sea Company shall notbe allowed.

"But it might involve the worse betrayal of your father,Charles, and if he were to live - "

"'Sdeath, mother, why must you harp on that? I a'n't the foolyou think me," he cried. "I shall make it a further conditionthat my father have immunity. There will be no lack ofvictims once the plot is disclosed; and they may begin uponthat coxcomb Caryll - the damned meddler who is at the bottomof all this garboil."

She sat bemused, her eyes upon the sunlit gardens below, wherea faint breeze was stirring the shrub tops.

"There is," she said presently, "a secret drawer somewhere inhis desk. If he has papers they will, no doubt, be there.Had you not best be making search for them?"

He smiled darkly. "I have seen to that already," he replied.

"How?" excitedly. "You have got the papers?"

"No; but I have set an experienced hand to find them, and one,moreover, who has the right by virtue of his warrant - themessenger of the secretary of state."

She sat up, rigid. "'Sdeath! What is't ye mean?"

"No need for alarm," he reassured her. "This fellow Green isin my pay, as well as in the secretary's, and it will profithim most to keep faith with me. He's a self-seeking dog,content to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, so thatthere be profit in it, and he'd sacrifice his ears to bringMr. Caryll to the gallows. I have promised him that and athousand pounds if we save the estates from confiscation."

She looked at him, between wonder and fear. "Can ye trusthim?" she asked breathlessly.

He laughed softly and confidently. "I can trust him to earn athousand pounds," he answered. "When he heard of theimpeachment, he used such influence as he has to be entrustedwith the arrest of his lordship; and having obtained hiswarrant, he came first to me to tell me of it. A thousandpounds is the price of him, body and soul. I bade him seeknot only evidence of my lord's having received that plagueystock, but also papers relating to this Jacobite plot intowhich his lordship has been drawn by our friend Caryll. He isat his work at present. And I shall hear from him when it isaccomplished."

She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "You have very welldisposed, Charles," she approved him. "If your father lives,it should not be a difficult matter - "

She checked suddenly and turned, while Rotherby, too, lookedup and stepped quickly from the window-embrasure where he hadstood.

The door of the bedroom had been suddenly pulled open, and SirJames came out, very pale and discomposed.

"Madam - his lordship," he said, and by his eloquent gestureof dejection announced what he had some difficulty in puttinginto words.

She stepped forward, and took him by the wrist. "Is hedying?" she inquired.

"Have courage, madam," the doctor besought her.

The apparent irrelevancy of the request at such a moment,angered her. Her mood was dangerously testy. And had thedoctor but known it, sympathy was a thing she had not bornewell these many years.

"I asked you was he dying," she reminded him, with a coldsternness that beat aside all his attempts at subterfuge.

"Your ladyship - he is dead," he faltered, with lowered eyes.

"Dead?" she echoed dully, and her hand went to the region ofher heart, her face turned livid under its rouge. "Dead?" shesaid again, and behind her, Rotherby echoed the dread word ina stupor almost equal to her own. Her lips moved to speak,but no words came. She staggered where she stood, and put herhand to her brow. Her son's arms were quickly about her. Hesupported her to a chair, where she sank as if all her jointswere loosened.

Sir James flew for restoratives; bathed her brow with adampened handkerchief; held strong salts to her nostrils, andmurmured words of foolish, banal consolation, whilst Rotherby,in a half-dreaming condition, stunned by the suddenness of theblow, stood beside her, mechanically lending his assistanceand supporting her.

Gradually she mastered her agitation. It was odd that sheshould feel so much at losing what she valued so little.Leastways, it would have been odd, had it been that. It wasnot - it was something more. In the awful, august presence ofdeath, stepped so suddenly into their midst, she felt herselfappalled.

For nigh upon thirty years she had been bound by legal andchurchly ties in a loveless union with Lord Ostermore -married for the handsome portion that had been hers, a portionwhich he had gamed away and squandered until, for theirstation, their circumstances were now absolutely straitened.They had led a harsh, discordant life, and the coming of ason, which should have bridged the loveless gulf between them,seemed but to have served to dig it wider. And the son hadbeen just the harsh, unfeeling offspring that might be lookedfor from such a union. Thirty years of slavery had been herladyship's, and in those thirty years her nature had beensoured and warped, and what inherent sweetness it may oncehave known had long since been smothered and destroyed. Shehad no cause to love that man who had never loved her, neverloved aught of hers beyond her jointure. And yet, there wasthe habit of thirty years. For thirty years they had beenyoke-fellows, however detestable the yoke. But yesterday hehad been alive and strong, a stupid, querulous thing maybe,but a living. And now he was so much carrion that should begiven to the earth. In some such channel ran her ladyship'sreflections during those few seconds in which she wasrecovering. For an instant she was softened. The long-sincedried-up springs of tenderness seemed like to push anew underthe shock of this event. She put out a hand to take herson's.

"Charles!" she said, and surprised him by the tender note.

A moment thus; then she was herself again. "How did he die?"she asked the doctor; and the abruptness of the resumption ofher usual manner startled Sir James more than aught in hisexperience of such scenes.

"It was most sudden, madam," answered he. "I had the bestgrounds for hope. I was being persuaded we should save him.And then, quite suddenly, without an instant's warning, hesuccumbed. He just heaved a sigh, and was gone. I couldscarcely believe my senses, madam."

He would have added more particulars of his feelings andemotions - for he was of those who believe that their ownimpressions of a phenomenon are that phenomenon's mostinteresting manifestations - but her ladyship waved himperemptorily into silence.

He drew back, washing his hands in the air, an expression ofpolite concern upon his face. "Is there aught else I can doto be of service to your ladyship?" he inquired, solicitous.

"What else?" she asked, with a fuller return to her old self."Ye've killed him. What more is there you can do?"

"Oh, madam - nay, madam! I am most deeply grieved that my - my- "

"His lordship will wait upon you to the door," said she,designating her son.

The eminent physician effaced himself from her ladyship'sattention. It was his boast that he could take a hint whenone was given him; and so he could, provided it were broadenough, as in the present instance.

He gathered up his hat and gold-headed cane - the unfailinginsignia of his order - and was gone, swiftly and silently.

Rotherby closed the door after him, and returned slowly, headbowed, to the window where his mother was still seated. Theylooked at each other gravely for a long moment.

"This makes matters easier for you," she said at length.

"Much easier. It does not matter now how far his complicitymay be betrayed by his papers. I am glad, madam, to see youso far recovered from your weakness."

She shivered, as much perhaps at his tone as at therecollections he evoked. "You are very indifferent, Charles,"said she.

He looked at her steadily, then slightly shrugged. "What needto wear a mask? Bah! Did he ever give me cause to feel forhim?" he asked. "Mother, if one day I have a son of my own, Ishall see to it that he loves me."

"You will be hard put to it, with your nature, Charles," shetold him critically. Then she rose. "Will you go to him withme?" she asked.

He made as if to acquiesce, then halted. "No," he said, andthere was repugnance in his tone and face. "Not - not now."

There came a knocking at the door, rapid, insistent. Gratefulfor the interruption, Rotherby went to open.

Mr. Green staggered forward with swollen eyes, his faceinflamed with rage, and with something else that was not quiteapparent to Rotherby.

"My lord!" he cried in a loud, angry voice.

Rotherby caught his wrist and checked him. "Sh! sir," he saidgravely. "Not here." And he pushed him out again, herladyship following them.

It was in the gallery - above the hall, in which the servantsstill stood idly about - that Mr. Green spattered out hiswrathful tale of what had befallen in the library.

Rotherby shook him as if he had been a rat. "You cursedfool!" he cried. "You left him there - at the desk?"

"What help had I?' demanded Green with spirit. "My eyes wereon fire. I couldn't see, and the pain of them made mehelpless."

"Then why did ye not send word to me at once, you fool?"

"Because I was concerned only to stop my eyes from burning,"answered Mr. Green, in a towering rage at finding reproofwhere he had come in quest of sympathy. "I have come to youat the first moment, damn you!" he burst out, in fullrebellion. "And you'll use me civilly now that I am come, or- ecod! - it'll be the worse for your lordship."

Rotherby considered him through a faint mist that rage had setbefore his eyes. To be so spoken to - damned indeed! - by adirty spy! Had he been alone with the man, there can belittle doubt but that he would have jeopardized his veryprecarious future by kicking Mr. Green downstairs. But hismother saved him from that rashness. It may be that she sawsomething of his anger in his kindling eye, and thought itwell to intervene.

She set a hand on his sleeve. "Charles!" she said to him in avoice that was dead cold with warning.

He responded to it, and chose discretion. He looked Greenover, nevertheless. "I vow I'm very patient with you," saidhe, and Green had the discretion on his side to hold histongue. "Come, man, while we stand talking here that knavemay be destroying precious evidence."

And his lordship went quickly down the stairs, Mr. Greenfollowing hard upon his heels, and her ladyship bringing upthe rear.

At the door of the library Rotherby came to a halt, and turnedthe handle. The door was locked. He beckoned a couple offootmen across the hall, and bade them break it open.

CHAPTER XX

Mr. CARYLL'S IDENTITY

I must see Lord Ostermore!" had been Mr. Caryll's wild cry, ashe strode to the door.

>From the other side of it there came a sound of steps andvoices. Some one was turning the handle.

Hortensia caught Mr. Caryll by the sleeve. "But the letters!"she cried frantically, and pointed to the incriminating paperswhich he had left, forgotten, upon the desk.

He stared at her a moment, and memory swept upon him in aflood. He mastered the wild agitation that had been swayinghim, thrust the paper that he was carrying into his pocket,and turned to go back for the treasonable letters.

"The taper!" he exclaimed, and pointed to the extinguishedcandle on the floor. "What can we do?"

A sharp blow fell upon the lock of the door. He stood still,looking over his shoulder.

"Quick! Make haste!" Hortensia admonished him in herexcitement. "Get them! Conceal them, at least! Do the bestyou can since we have not the means to burn them."

A second blow was struck, succeeded instantly by a third, andsomething was heard to snap. The door swung open, and Greenand Rotherby sprang into the room, a brace of footmen at theirheels. They were followed more leisurely by the countess;whilst a little flock of servants brought up the rear, butchecked upon the threshold, and hung there to witness eventsthat held out such promise of being unusual.

Mr. Caryll swore through set teeth, and made a dash for thedesk. But he was too late to accomplish his object. His handhad scarcely closed upon the letters, when he was, himself,seized. Rotherby and Green, on either side of him, held himin their grasp, each with one hand upon his shoulder and theother at his wrist. Thus stood he, powerless between them,and, after the first shock of it, cool and making no effort todisengage himself. His right hand was tightly clenched uponthe letters.

Rotherby called a servant forward. "Take those papers fromthe thief's hand," he commanded.

"Stop!" cried Mr. Caryll. "Lord Rotherby, may I speak withyou alone before you go further in a matter you will bitterlyregret ?"

"Take those papers from him," Rotherby repeated, swearing; andthe servant bent to the task. But Mr. Caryll suddenlywrenched the hand away from the fellow and the wrist out ofLord Rotherby's grip.

"A moment, my lord, as you value your honor and yourpossessions!" he insisted. "Let me speak with Lord Ostermorefirst. Take me before him."

"You are before him now," said Rotherby. "Say on!"

"I demand to see Lord Ostermore."

"I am Lord Ostermore," said Rotherby.

"You? Since when?" said Mr. Caryll, not even beginning tounderstand.

"Since ten minutes ago," was the callous answer that firstgave that household the news of my lord's passing.

There was a movement, a muttering among the servants. OldHumphries broke through the group by the door, his heavy chopswhite and trembling, and in that moment Hortensia turned,awe-stricken, to ask her ladyship was this true. Her ladyshipnodded in silence. Hortensia cried out, and sank to a chairas if beaten down by the news, whilst the old servant,answered, too, withdrew, wringing his hands and making foolishlaments; and the tears of those were the only tears thatwatered the grave of John Caryll, fifth Earl of Ostermore.

As for Mr. Caryll, the shock of that announcement seemed tocast a spell upon him. He stood still, limp and almostnumbed. Oh, the never-ceasing irony of things! That hisfather should have died at such a moment.

Mr. Caryll looked sharply round at him. "My sword?" quoth he."What do you mean by that? What right "

"We mean to keep you by us, sir," said Mr. Green on his otherside, "until you have explained what you were doing with thosepapers - what is your interest in them."

Meanwhile a servant had done his lordship's bidding, and Mr.Caryll stood weaponless amid his enemies. He mastered himselfat once. Here it was plain that he must walk with caution,for the ground, he perceived, was of a sudden grown mostinsecure and treacherous. Rotherby and Green in league! Itgave him matter for much thought.

"There's not the need to hold me," said he quietly. "I am notlikely to tire myself by violence. There's scarcely necessityfor so much."

Rotherby looked up sharply. The cool, self-possessed tone hadan intimidating note. But Mr. Green laughed maliciously, ashe continued to mop his still watering eyes. He wasacquainted with Mr. Caryll's methods, and knew that, probably,the more at ease he seemed, the less at ease he was.

Rotherby spread the letters on the desk, and scanned them witha glowing eye, Mr. Green at his elbow reading with him. Thecountess swept forward that she, too, might inspect this find.

"They'll serve their turn," said her son, and added to Caryll:"And they'll help to hang you."

"No doubt you find me mentioned in them," said Mr. Caryll.

"Ay, sir," snapped Green, "if not by name, at least as themessenger who is to explain that which the writers - the royalwriter and the other - have out of prudence seen fit toexclude."

Hortensia looked up and across the room at that, a wild fearclutching at her heart. But Mr. Caryll laughed pleasantly,eyebrows raised as if in mild surprise. "The most excellentrelations appear to prevail between you," said he, lookingfrom Rotherby to Green. "Are you, too, my lord, in thesecretary's pay."

His lordship flushed darkly. "You'll clown it to the end," hesneered.

"And that's none so far off," snarled Mr. Green, who since thepeppering of his eyes, had flung aside his usual cherubic air."Oh, you may sneer, sir," he mocked the prisoner. "But wehave you fast. This letter was brought hither by you, andthis one was to have been carried hence by you."

"The latter, sir, was a matter for the future, and you canhardly prove what a man will do; so we'll let that pass. Asfor the former - the letter which you say I brought - you'llremember that you searched me at Maidstone - "

"And I have your admission that the letter was upon you at thetime," roared the spy, interrupting him - "your admission inthe presence of that lady, as she can be made to witness."

Mistress Winthrop rose. "'Tis a lie," she said firmly. "Ican not be made to witness."

Mr. Caryll smiled, and nodded across to her. "'Tis vastlykind in you, Mistress Winthrop. But the gentleman ismistook." He turned to Green. "Harkee, sirrah did I admitthat I had carried that letter?"

Mr. Green shrugged. "You admitted that you carried a letter.What other letter should it have been but that?"

"Nay," smiled Mr. Caryll. "'Tis not for you to ask me.Rather is it for you to prove that the letter I admittedhaving carried and that letter are one and the same. 'Twilltake a deal of proving, I dare swear."

"Ye'll be forsworn, then," put in her ladyship sourly. "For Ican witness to the letter that you bore. Not only did I seeit - a letter on that same fine paper - in my husband's handson the day you came here and during your visit, but I have hislordship's own word for it that he was in the plot and thatyou were the go-between."

"Ah!" chuckled Mr. Green. "What now, sir? What now? By whatfresh piece of acrobatics will you get out of that?"

"Ye're a fool," said Mr. Caryll with calm contempt, andfetched out his snuff-box. "D'ye dream that one witness willsuffice to establish so grave a charge? Pah!" He opened hissnuff-box to find it empty, and viciously snapped down the lidagain. "Pah!" he said again, "ye've cost me a whole boxfullof Burgamot."

"Why did ye throw it in my face?" demanded Mr. Green. "Whatpurpose did ye look to serve but one of treason? Answer methat!"

"I didn't like the way ye looked at me. 'Twas wantingrespect, and I bethought me I would lessen the impudence ofyour expression. Have ye any other foolish questions for me?"And he looked again from Green to Rotherby, including both inhis inquiry. "No?" He rose. "In that case, if you'll give meleave, and - "

"You do not leave this house," Rotherby informed him.

"I think you push hospitality too far. Will you desire yourlackey to return me my sword? I have affairs elsewhere."

"Mr. Caryll, I beg that you will understand," said hislordship, with a calm that he was at some pains to maintain,"that you do not leave this house save in the care of themessengers from the secretary of state."

Mr. Caryll looked at him, and yawned in his face. "Ye'reprodigiously tiresome," said he, "did ye but know how I detestdisturbances. What shall the secretary of state require ofme?"

"Meanwhile, sirs, I depart. Offer me violence at your peril."He moved a step, and then, at a sign from Rotherby, thelackey's hands fell on him again, and forced him back and downinto his chair.

"Away with you for the warrant," said Rotherby to Green."We'll keep him here till you return."

Mr. Green grinned at the prisoner, and was gone in greathaste.

Mr. Caryll lounged back in his chair, and threw one leg overthe other. "I have always endeavored," said he, "to sufferfools as gladly as a Christian should. So since you insist,I'll be patient until I have the ear of my Lord Carteret -who, I take it, is a man of sense. But if I were you, mylord, and you, my lady, I should not insist. Believe me,you'll cut poor figures. As for you, my lord, ye're in nonesuch good odor, as it is."

"Let that be," snarled his lordship.

"If I mention it at all, I but do so in your lordship's owninterests. It will be remembered that ye attempted to murderme once, and that will not be of any great help to suchaccusations as you may bring against me. Besides which, thereis the unfortunate circumstance that it's widely known ye'renot a man to be believed."

"Will you be silent?" roared his lordship, in a toweringpassion.

"If I trouble myself to speak at all, it is out of concern foryour lordship," Mr. Caryll insisted sweetly. "And in your owninterest, and your ladyship's, too, I'd counsel you to hear mea moment without witnesses."

His tone was calculatedly grave. Lord Rotherby looked at him,sneering; not so her ladyship. Less acquainted with his ways,the absolute confidence and unconcern of his demeanor wascausing her uneasiness. A man who was perilously entrammelledwould not bear himself so easily, she opined. She rose, andcrossed to her son's side.

"What have you to say?" she asked Mr. Caryll.

"Nay, madam," he replied, "not before these." And heindicated the servants.

"'Tis but a pretext to have them out of the room," saidRotherby.

Mr. Caryll laughed the notion to scorn. "If you think that -I give you my word of honor to attempt no violence, nor todepart until you shall give me leave," said he.

Rotherby, judging Mr. Caryll by his knowledge of himself,still hesitated. But her ladyship realized, in spite of herdetestation of the man, that he was not of the temper of thosewhose word is to be doubted. She signed to the footmen.

"Go," she bade them. "Wait within call."

They departed, and Mr. Caryll remained seated for all that herladyship was standing; it was as if by that he wished to showhow little he was minded to move.

Her ladyship's eye fell upon Hortensia. "Do you go, too,child," she bade her.

"Nay, nay," he cried, and smiled upon her fondly - so fondlythat the countess's eyes grew wider. "With all my heart, Idesire you to remain. It is most fitting you should hear thatwhich I have to say."

"What does it mean?" demanded Rotherby, thrusting himselfforward, and scowling from one to the other of them. "Whatd'ye mean, Hortensia?"

"I am Mr. Caryll's betrothed wife," she answered quietly.

Rotherby's mouth fell open, but he made no sound. Not so herladyship. A peal of shrill laughter broke from her. "La!What did I tell you, Charles?" Then to Hortensia: "I'm sorryfor you, ma'am," said she. "I think ye've been a thought toolong in making up your mind." And she laughed again.

"Lord Ostermore lies above stairs," Hortensia reminded her,and her ladyship went white at the reminder, the indecency ofher laughter borne in upon her.

"Would ye lesson me, girl?" she cried, as much to cover herconfusion as to vent her anger at the cause of it. "Ye've anodd daring, by God! Ye'll be well matched with his impudence,there."

Rotherby, singularly self-contained, recalled her to theoccasion.

"Mr. Caryll is waiting," said he, a sneer in his voice.

"Ah, yes," she said, and flashing a last malignant glance uponHortensia, she sank to a chair beside her, but not too nearher.

Mr. Caryll sat back, his legs crossed, his elbows on hischair-arms, his finger-tips together. "The thing I have totell you is of some gravity," he announced by way of preface.

Rotherby took a seat by the desk, his hand upon thetreasonable letters. "Proceed, sir," he said, importantly.Mr. Caryll nodded, as in acknowledgment of the invitation.

"I will admit, before going further, that in spite of thecheerful countenance I maintained before your lordship'sfriend, the bumbailiff, and your lackeys, I recognize that youhave me in a very dangerous position."

"Ah!" from his lordship in a breath of satisfaction, and

"Ah!" from Hortensia in a gasp of apprehension.

Her ladyship retained a stony countenance, and a silence thatsorted excellently with it.

"There is," Mr. Caryll proceeded, marking off the points onhis fingers, "the incident at Maidstone; there is yourladyship's evidence that I was the bearer of just such aletter on the day that first I came here; there is thedangerous circumstance - of which Mr. Green, I am sure, willnot fail to make a deal - of my intimacy with Sir RichardEverard, and my constant visits to his lodging, where I was,in fact, on the occasion when he met his death; there is thefact that I committed upon Mr. Green an assault with my snuffbox for motives that, after all, admit of but one acceptableexplanation; and, lastly, there is the circumstance that,apparently, if interrogated, I can show no good reason why Ishould be in England at all, where no apparent interest hascalled me or keeps me.

"Now, these matters are so trivial that taken separately theyhave no value whatever; taken conjointly, their value is notgreat; they do not contain evidence enough to justify thehanging of a dog. And yet, I realize that disturbed as thetimes are, fearful of sedition as the government finds itselfin consequence of the mischief done to public credit by theSouth Sea disaster, and ready as the ministry is to see plotseverywhere and to make examples, pour discourager les autres,if the accusation you intend is laid against me, backed bysuch evidence as this, it is not impossible - indeed, it isnot improbable - that it may - ah - tend to shorten my life."

"Sir," sneered Rotherby, "I declare you should have been alawyer. We haven't a pleader of such parts and such lucidityat the whole bar."

Mr. Caryll nodded his thanks. "Your praise is veryflattering, my lord," said he, with a wry smile, and thenproceeded: "It is because I see my case to be so very nearlydesperate, that I venture to hope you will not persevere inthe course you are proposing to adopt."

"If you could urge me any reasons why you should," said Mr.Caryll, "no doubt I should be able to show you under whatmisapprehensions you are laboring." He shot a keen glance athis lordship, whose face had suddenly gone blank. Mr. Caryllsmiled quietly. "There is in this something that I do notunderstand," he resumed. "It does not satisfy me to suppose,as at first might seem, that you are acting out of sheermalice against me. You have scarcely cause to do that, mylord; and you, my lady, have none. That fool Green - patience- he conceives that he has suffered at my hands. But withoutyour assistance Mr. Green would be powerless to hurt me.What, then, is it that is moving you?"

He paused, looking from one to the other of his declaredenemies. They exchanged glances - Hortensia watching them,breathless, her own mind working, too, upon this question thatMr. Caryll had set, yet nowhere finding an answer.

"I had thought," said her ladyship at last, "that you promisedto tell us something that it was in our interest to hear.Instead, you appear to be asking questions."

Mr. Caryll shifted in his chair. One glance he gave thecountess, then smiled. "I have sought at your hands thereasons why you should desire my death," said he slowly. "Youwithhold them. Be it so. I take it that you are ashamed ofthem; and so, their nature is not difficult to conjecture."

"Sir - " began Rotherby, hotly, half-starting from his seat.

"Nay, let him trundle on, Charles," said his mother. "He'llbe the sooner done."

"Instead," proceeded Mr. Caryll, as if there had been nointerruption, "I will now urge you my reasons why you shouldnot so proceed."

"Ha!" snapped Rotherby. "They will need to be valid."

Mr. Caryll twisted farther round, to face his lordship morefully. "They are as valid," said he very impressively - soimpressively and sternly that his hearers felt themselvesturning cold under his words, filled with some mysteriousapprehension. "They are as valid as were my reasons forholding my hand in the field out yonder, when I had you at themercy of my sword, my lord. Neither more nor less. Fromthat, you may judge them to be very valid."

"But ye don't name them," said her ladyship, attempting toconquer her uneasiness.

"I shall do so," said he, and turned again to his lordship."I had no cause to love you that morning, nor at any time, mylord; I had no cause to think - as even you in your heart mustrealize, if so be that you have a heart, and the intelligenceto examine it - I had no cause to think, my lord, that Ishould be doing other than a good deed by letting drive myblade. That such an opinion was well founded was proven bythe thing you did when I turned my back upon you after sparingyour useless life."

Rotherby broke in tempestuously, smiting the desk before him."If you think to move us to mercy by such - "

"Oh, not to mercy would I move you," said Mr. Caryll, his handraised to stay the other, "not to mercy, but to horror of thething you contemplate." And then, in an oddly impressivemanner, he launched his thunderbolt. "Know, then, that ifthat morning I would not spill your blood, it was because Ishould have been spilling the same blood that flows in my ownveins; it was because you are my brother; because your fatherwas my father. No less than that was the reason that withheldmy hand."

He had announced his aim of moving them to horror; and it wasplain that he had not missed it, for in frozen horror sat theyall, their eyes upon him, their cheeks ashen, their mouthsagape - even Hortensia, who from what already Mr. Caryll hadtold her, understood now more than any of them.

After a spell Rotherby spoke. "You are my brother?" he said,his voice colorless. "My brother? What are you saying?"

And then her ladyship found her voice. "Who was your mother?"she inquired, and her very tone was an insult, not to the manwho sat there so much as to the memory of poor Antoinette deMaligny. He flushed to the temples, then paled again.

"I'll not name her to your ladyship," said he at, last, in acold, imperious voice.

"I'm glad ye've so much decency," she countered.

"You mistake, I think," said he. "'Tis respect for my motherthat inspires me." And his green eyes flashed upon thepainted hag. She rose up a very fury.

"What are you saying?" she shrilled. "D'ye hear the filthyfellow, Rotherby? He'll not name the wanton in my presenceout of respect for her."

"For shame, madam! You are speaking of his mother," criedHortensia, hot with indignation.

"Pshaw! 'Tis all an impudent lie - a pack of lies!" criedRotherby. "He's crafty as all the imps of hell."

Mr. Caryll rose. "Here in the sight of God and by all that Ihold most sacred, I swear that what I have said is true. Iswear that Lord Ostermore - your father - was my father. Iwas born in France, in the year 1690, as I have papers upon methat will prove, which you may see, Rotherby."

His lordship rose. "Produce them," said he shortly.

Mr. Caryll drew from an inner pocket of his coat the smallleather case that Sir Richard Everard had given him. Fromthis he took a paper which he unfolded. It was a certificateof baptism, copied from the register of the Church of St.Antoine in Paris.

Rotherby held out his hand for it. But Mr. Caryll shook hishead. "Stand here beside me, and read it," said he.

Obeying him, Rotherby went and read that authenticated copy,wherein it was declared that Sir Richard Everard had broughtto the Church of St. Antoine for baptism a male child, whichhe had declared to be the son of John Caryll, ViscountRotherby, and Antoinette de Maligny, and which had received inbaptism the name of Justin.

Rotherby drew away again, his head sunk on his breast. Herladyship was seated, her eyes upon her son, her fingersdrumming absently at the arms of her chair. Then Rotherbyswung round again.

"How do I know that you are the person designated there - thisJustin Caryll?"

"You do not; but you may. Cast your mind back to that nightat White's when you picked your quarrel with me, my lord. Doyou remember how Stapleton and Collis spoke up for me,declared that they had known me from boyhood at Oxford, andhad visited me at my chateau in France? What was the name ofthat chateau, my lord - do you remember?"

Rotherby looked at him, searching his memory. But he did notneed to search far. At first glance the name of Maligny hadseemed familiar to him. "It was Maligny," he replied, "andyet - "

"If more is needed to convince you, I can bring a hundredwitnesses from France, who have known me from infancy. Youmay take it that I can establish my identity beyond alldoubt."

"And what if you do?" demanded her ladyship suddenly. "Whatif you do establish your identity as my lord's bastard? Whatclaim shall that be upon us?"

For a spell there was utter silence in that spacious, pillaredchamber. Mr. Caryll and her ladyship had both resumed theirchairs: the former spuriously calm; the latter making noattempt to conceal her agitation. Hortensia leant forward, aneager spectator, watching the three actors in thistragicomedy.

As for Rotherby, he stood with bent head and furrowed brow.It was for him to speak, and yet he was utterly at a loss forwords. He was not moved at the news he had received, so muchas dismayed. It dictated a course that would interfere withall his plans, and therefore a course unthinkable. So heremained puzzled how to act, how to deal with this unexpectedsituation.

It was her ladyship who was the first to break the silence.She had been considering Mr. Caryll through narrowing eyes,the corners of her mouth drawn down. She had caught the nameof Maligny when it was uttered, and out of the knowledge whichhappened to be hers - though Mr. Caryll was ignorant of this -it set her thinking.

"I do not believe that you are the son of Mademoiselle deMaligny," she said at last. "I never heard that my lord had ason; I cannot believe there was so much between them."

Mr. Caryll stared, startled out of his habitual calm.Rotherby turned to her with an exclamation of surprise."How?" he cried. "You knew, then? My father was - "

She laughed mirthlessly. "Your father would have married herhad he dared," she informed them. "'Twas to beg his father'sconsent that he braved his banishment and came to England.But his father was as headstrong as himself; held just suchviews as he, himself, held later where you were concerned. Hewould not hear of the match. I was to be had for the asking.My father was a man who traded in his children, and he hadoffered me, with a jointure that was a fortune, to the Earl ofOstermore as a wife for his son."

Mr. Caryll was listening, all ears. Some light was being shedupon much that had lain in darkness.

"And so," she proceeded, "your grandfather constrained yourfather to forget the woman he had left in France, and to marryme. I know not what sins I had committed that I should havebeen visited with such a punishment. But so it befell. Yourfather resisted, dallying with the matter for a whole year.Then there was a duel fought. A cousin of Mademoiselle deMaligny's crossed to England, and forced a quarrel upon yourfather. They met, and M. de Maligny was killed. Then achange set in in my lord's bearing, and one day, a month or solater, he gave way to his father's insistence, and we werewed. But I do not believe that my lord had left a son inFrance - I do not believe that had he done so, I should nothave known it; I do not believe that under such circumstances,unfeeling as he was, he would have abandoned Mademoiselle deMaligny."

"You think, then," said Rotherby, "that this man has raked upthis story to - "

"Consider what you are saying," cut in Mr. Caryll, with aflash of scorn. "Should I have come prepared with documentsagainst such a happening as this?"

"Nay, but the documents might have been intended for someother purpose had my lord lived - some purpose of extortion,"suggested her ladyship.

"But consider again, madam, that I am wealthy - far wealthierthan was ever my Lord Ostermore, as my friends Collis,Stapleton and many another can be called to prove. What need,then, had I to extort?"

"How came you by your means, being what you say you are?" sheasked him.

Briefly he told her how Sir Richard Everard had cared for him,for his mother's sake; endowed him richly upon adopting him,and since made him heir to all his wealth, which wasconsiderable. "And for the rest, madam, and you, Rotherby,set doubts on one side. Your ladyship says that had my lordhad a son you must have heard of it. But my lord, madam,never knew he had a son. Tell me - can you recall the date,the month at least, in which my lord returned to England?"

"I can, sir. It was at the end of April of '89. What then?"

Mr. Caryll produced the certificate again. He beckonedRotherby, and held the paper under his eyes. "What date isthere - the date of birth?"

Rotherby read: "The third of January of 1690."

Mr. Caryll folded the paper again. "That will help yourladyship to understand how it might happen that my lordremained in ignorance of my birth." He sighed as he replacedthe case in his pocket. "I would he had known before hedied," said he, almost as if speaking to himself.

And now her ladyship lost her temper. She saw Rotherbywavering, and it angered her; and angered, she committed agrave error. Wisdom lay in maintaining the attitude ofrepudiation; it would at least have afforded some excuse forher and Rotherby. Instead, she now recklessly flung off thatarmor, and went naked down into the fray.

"A fig for't all!" she cried, and snapped her fingers. Shehad risen, and she towered there, a lean and malevolentfigure, her head-dress nodding foolishly. "What does itmatter that you be what you claim to be? Is it to weigh withyou, Rotherby?"

Rotherby turned grave eyes upon her. He was, it seemed, notquite rotten through and through; there was still in him - inthe depths of him - a core that was in a measure sound; andthat core was reached. Most of all had the story weighed withhim because it afforded the only explanation of why Mr. Caryllhad spared his life that morning of the duel. It was a matterthat had puzzled him, as it had puzzled all who had witnessedthe affront that led to the encounter.

Between that and the rest - to say nothing of the certificatehe had seen, which he could not suppose a forgery - he wasconvinced that Mr. Caryll was the brother that he claimed tobe. He gathered from his mother's sudden anger that she, too,was convinced, in spite of herself, by the answers Mr. Caryllhad returned to all her arguments against the identity heclaimed.

He hated Mr. Caryll no whit less for what he had learnt; ifanything, he hated him more. And yet a sense of decencyforbade him from persecuting him now, as he had intended, anddelivering to the hangman. From ordinary murder, once in theheat of passion - as we have seen - he had not shrunk. Butfratricide appeared - such is the effect of education - a far,far graver thing, even though it should be indirect fratricideof the sort that he had contemplated before learning that thisman was his brother.

There seemed to be one of two only courses left him: toprovide Mr. Caryll with the means of escape, or else towithhold such evidence as he intended to supply against him,and to persuade - to compel, if necessary - his mother to dothe same. When all was said, his interests need not suffervery greatly. His position would not be quite so strong,